Of Rave Parties and Impossible Friendships
by YouTube Powers of Stupidity
Summary: Berlin and Mexico have completely different lives, and they both prefer to stay that way. However, Brazil HAD to challenge Germany, and they HAD to go stay at Berlin's house, and Mexico and Berlin HAD to hate each other. But what's this? Rave party is coming, and Brazil really wishes for them to become friends. So...what will they do? Partner Fanfiction with Feniella of Suburbia


**Berlin's POV**

It was an ordinary day. I laid on my back, my knees bended, my arms sprode out. I looked up into the sky. I wondered how white the sky above my head was, it wasn't really cloudy, and in fact the sky was very light blue this day.

"Trinchen, watcha do?" suddenly asked someone.  
I turned my head around. A handful people were sitting and standing around. The guy who asked me was called Mehmet. He was tall and really slim, but looked like a 'V' because his chest was strong and his hips small. He was a bit muscled, but he didn't look like a bodybuilder. His light curled, short-cut hair isn't really helpful in this season, and the cool winter air blew around his head. He has had small dark eyes and a long, thin nose. His skin didn't look really Caucasian, more Mediterranean. All in all, his soft and deep voice stands in contrast with his light dangerous appearance. Standing circa 10 meters away, his saw in my direction and started to smile.  
"Nothing, you see." I replied short. Another voice meddled in: "C'mon Katherina! Don't make this face!"

It's Mehmet's one-year-younger brother Marik, I called him 'Masi' like I called his brother 'Methe'. He was pretty short, but in many points he appeared like Mehmet. Just his eyes were bigger, darker und he has had pretty long eyelashes. He should be 15 or 16; I'm not sure because I'm also not sure how old Memhet was in detail. Both wore a black leather jacket, Memhet wares baggy pants, Marik skinny jeans.

If you ask me, guy shouldn't ware skinny jeans; it's too girly for boys …

"Shut the 'you-know-what-I-don't-want-to-say' up!" I growled lightly. Masi is this type of person who smiles 24/7 and has a talent to make other people smile with him, but to be honest: I really didn't want to smile. Maybe I look a bit upset or something, but I never really smile when my so-called friends around me, nevertheless it doesn't mean I'm not happy.  
I think it's hard to explain …

"Hey don't be like this! Sammy and I wanna buy döner! Want some?" He asked cheerfully. I nodded. "Something special?" "Nope. Same as every time." He nodded too. He and his chubby, more Russian-looking friend went away, while I stared a bit to Mehmet. I began to smile too and blushed softly.

"Ah, ditcha like mah lil' bro?" He smirks heavily. I like his accent. It's more Turkish as it is jargon. But it's not the only thing I like on him … His soft voice, deep and carrying, his lightly cruel looks, his never often seen smile. I've a little crush on him … and I think he knew it, but he liked it to tease me.

"Of course. He's okay, but a bit annoying …" I tried to look bored, but my smiling didn't want to go away. "I think he's fallin' for ya' …" he took a fag out of his wallet and lit up this. He drew on it. "Am … probably … By way, what do you want? And how could you found me? I didn't tell anyone I'm sitting on the housetop of my prefab." I wanted to change the topic rapidly and the questions were mean truth. How the heck could he found me?!

"Ohm … I say it so, I know you better than you do …" "Is it a presumption?"

He laughed. "Just a fact." "So, tell me, what you know about me?" I looked challenging. He smirked again and started: "Challenge accepts. Okay. You're name is Katherina Kastner. You're 16 years old. You live in Berlin Lichtenberg, but you go to school in Kreuzberg, like me. You're my classmate. Your hair is dark blondish with naturally lighter highlights. They are long with a fringe and a bit shiny. And your eyes are …" he paused. I stared in confusing. What did he talk about? He continued: "… your eyes are special. It's pretty hard to describe … they are grey and light blue, but patterned in a illogical rhythm I tried to figured out bit it failed every time. Your lips are full and kind of rosé. Your cheeks are blushed all the time. Your moon face and your small ears are covered under your hair mostly. Your tresses hang in your face often. And you wear make-up you didn't need. And your body …" he swallowed. I followed every movement he made. He looked nervous and his face was dyed darkish red. Could it be he likes me …? But closed his eyes continued again:

"… you're not slim. You're not a model. You're not this Heidi Klum girl. You've curves, fully and feminine. All of our girls in class are so skinny and bony, they haven't boobs or ass anymore … but you … Vallah … you're a tubby but it makes you look good. Pretty beautiful. You wear clothes you want. Your style is causal and changing. And your character … you do as if everybody is your friend from the first moment you know him or her. You're talking loudly and strong. You're stubborn, serious, intelligent, reserved … But if you're melted you're nice, kind of warm-hearted, open-handed and … lovely." He finished his speech and forced himself to look to the ground. He liked me much. And we both know we blushed and we were coy because of his speech, but I couldn't stay silent.

"You like me much … isn't it so?" I look up and saw cumulus clouds flood away. The sun shone and the sky was still white-blue. "Me too." I said short. He look in me face what still focused to the sky above my head. "What …?" This was a silly question and I never answered questions like this. My eyes traveled away and focused now kilometers away in direction west. I saw the TV-Tower and dozens of skyscrapers. 'Mercedes' and 'Tele5' lit up to the slowly darken atmosphere of the setting sun. Million windows began to shine. Chasing cars drove on the streets. I looked over a city what was dirtier as an old prostitute, a city where live more Turks as in Istanbul, a city what haven't the best reputation, since over 65 years. "Have you ever seen Berlin like this at night?" I voice was low and surprising deep. I suspected he looked confused, but he griped light my shoulder and answered: "No, never, but … you did, I know. I think, you know more about this city as every fucking so-called 'Berliner' in Germany." Maybe he's right. I now myself well.

Hello, my name is Katherina Beilschmidt, assumed Name Kastner. I'm 775 years old. I'm the City and State of Berlin, located in Eastern Germany. And I tell you a little story, about how hard it is to be someone, who's forced to be 'abnormal'.

**Mexico's POV**

Today was a peaceful day, with the Mexican sun shining on us, and the birds tweeting. I usually don't go outside that much, due to my work with my boss, and such, so it was a relief to go outside for once.

I look at my people. Many other Mexicans are going somewhere, some children were playing at the park. It's nice. I wish there were more days like this...with all of the killing and murdering going on here, it's hard to have any peace. I look below me. There my dog, Princess, sleeping on the sidewalk, and by her movements, I can tell she's dreaming about squirrels again.

I nudge her with my foot lightly. The pitbull/beagle mix slowly opened up her hazel eyes. About time, already. She's been sleeping too much, and even a dog could get tired from sleeping all of the time.

"Princess, ready to go home?" The dog blinked, and realized that she was in a park...her mind is a little slow these days and then looked up to me. "*yawn* Mex, why didn't you tell me we were in a park?" I chuckle lightly. That dog seriously has some mental issues.

Now, it's weird to have a talking dog here in Mexico, but it's even weirder when said dog can transform into a human, and such. What this people don't tell you about, is that she represents something, also. Tiburon Island. The largest island in Mexico. I know, I know you don't want to hear about some island, but this dog is special, Man's best friend, alright, but it's also...maybe I should stop talking about Princess here.

Anyway, the dog started to go hyper, and me, it's owner as of now, had to calm it down. "Princess, Princess, calmate, calmate. Voy a tirar este palo, si?" The dog calmed down, and then wagged its tail. I threw the stick off to somewhere, and the mutt went to go get it. She then came back, and dropped the stick down. She looked up to me again, and said, "Well, that's was more...near than you usually throw. Age coming up to you?"

I smiled slightly. "Hey, like you should be saying that now. I'm 200 and some years old, and I still have the energy of a eighteen year old. You are like what? 30 or some years? In dog years that's gotta be...210 years. A lot more older than me, eh?"

The dog then lied down. Aw...I embarrassed the poor thing. "Bueno, aren't you going to go get another palo?" The dog then stood up, (well, more like she sat down) and then replied to me. "Maybe you should throw me another palo." I got another stick on the ground, until my phone started ringing. It was my boss. *Sigh*...time for work then. I stood up from the bench, and Princess, getting the message, she started to walk along with me. It's nice to have such a loyal dog.

Hi. My name is Monica Vasquez, I represent the country of Mexico, I'm 202 or so years, and welcome to my life so far.

**Hello to the people of the world,**

**This is YPS, and as if you could see, this is my partner fanfiction with Feniella of Suburbia, and yes, I know she updated the same thing, too, but since something is going on with Feniella there, (won't mention it), we decided to upload this on my profile.**

**As Feniella said on the other story, critic is allowed...just no flaming. R&R, and see ya later...I think.**

**YPS, OUT! **


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